what up, bro?
ball_93
This chicken's not roasted, broiled or fried. It's BROASTED. Good luck
finding it, though
By Walter Nicholls
Washington Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, April 21, 2004; Page F01
On March 16 at 11:15 p.m., a curious e-mail arrives at the Food section from
an apparently hungry reader in Falls Church.
"I'm originally from Detroit," writes Duane D. Freese, an editorial
consultant for TechCentralStation.com. "The best 'fried' chicken I ever had
was from a place called the Chicken Shack. It was actually broasted. I found
a place in Virginia that 'broasted chicken.' But it closed last March before
I could taste its fare. . . . Is there any place in this area that serves
it?"
Broasted? Did he mean braised or roasted? I know fried, rotisserie or
poached chicken. Chicken pot pie. Chicken a la king. Food reporters
routinely stuff, truss, spatchcock and grill birds. Kiev. Marengo.
Tetrazzini. If it clucked, we can cook it.
But "broasted"? How could this one have gotten past me?
The next morning I took that first step that so many of us take when we want
to track down information: A Google search turns up assorted references to
the now-shuttered Whitey's Restaurant, the popular neighborhood bar in
Arlington that featured live music and broasted chicken. Freese is right.
Whitey's is history.
Then, pay dirt: www.broaster.com, the home page of the Broaster Co. of
Beloit, Wis., which, it turns out, is celebrating its 50th anniversary. In
1954, inventor L.A.M. Phalen of Flavor Fast Foods in Rockton, Ill.,
developed a pressure-cooking, deep-fat fryer and trademarked the word
Broaster.
The Broaster Co. makes the stainless-steel fryer, a machine that looks like
a top-loading clothes washer with a lock-down lid. It also markets the
cooking process. If you want to sell Broaster chicken, you have to follow
the company's preparation instructions and sign an agreement that you will
cook chicken only in a Broaster Co.-manufactured pressure fryer and only
using Broaster's Chickite marinade and Slo-Bro seasoning. Only then can you
call your chicken Broaster.
Now I know how you make it. But what does the stuff taste like?
I click on "store locator" at the Broaster site and up pops a U.S. map
speckled with thousands of red dots -- each one an active Broaster.
There are more than 5,000 restaurants, cafeterias, bars and carryouts that
have a Broaster operating license in the United States, with lots of red
dots concentrated in the upper Midwest. (There are thousands more in 40
countries worldwide. Saudi Arabia is thick with them, with a couple of
thousand businesses with fryers born in Beloit.)
But there's only a single red dot in Washington, D.C.
Why is this area so lean on Broaster chicken? The store locator allows you
to type in a Zip code to find the broaster nearest you. First I try Beverly
Hills 90210 and get 33 locations. New York (10010) has 22. Then I type in
the Zip code of The Post, 20071, and pick up the lone entry: the Veterans
Canteen Service #618, at 810 Vermont Ave. NW, just down the street.
Feeling left out and overlooked, I call the Broaster headquarters in Beloit.
"It's really a Midwest thing that's spreading," says Mark Markwardt,
director of marketing. Markwardt's hometown of Sheboygan, for example, has
more than 80 venues.
Broaster doesn't target specific areas. You have to come to Broaster.
"More than anything, it's by chance," he says. "We're not like Subway or
McDonald's with corporate stores. Independents have to buy into the
program." But Broaster does actively market its machines to military
institutions. He suggests I try the chicken at the Veterans Canteen.
And 30 minutes later, with the help of Jacob Bengera, manager of the
cafeteria in the basement of the Department of Veterans Affairs
headquarters, one block from the White House, I have Broaster in my hands.
(The cafeteria is open only to government employees. But for the sake of
research, Bengera sells me five pieces of chicken for the usual rate of
$3.75.)
Back at the office, I nudge the pieces with a fork. They're on the scrawny
side; the trademark coating is a little greasy and its dominant flavor is
salt. It has more personality than, let's say, Kentucky Fried Chicken, but
nowhere near the spicy taste of Popeye's. The meat is moist and easily falls
off the bone. I'm left wondering: Could this be as good as Broaster gets? I
try the store locator on the Web site again and expand my Zip code search.
Two hits! The next nearest Broaster location is 64 miles away in Thurmont,
Md., and one a bit farther, in Hagerstown. I hit the road.
"We're not fancy -- just country people," says Patricia Ridenoor, co-owner
of the Thurmont Kountry Kitchen, a comfortable, pint-size restaurant that
occupies a humble bungalow on Water Street in the center of the town. We
settle into a back table, sip iced tea and talk Broaster.
In the 20 years that Ridenoor has owned the restaurant, no American
president has dropped by for the Big Mama burger or housemade blueberry pie.
After all, the presidential retreat, Camp David, is only five miles away.
"We get the SWAT teams and the Park Police but, best I know, no presidents,"
says Ridenoor who bought into Broaster four years ago for $8,000: "A lot of
money." Her prize possession fries 40 pieces of chicken at a time in 15
minutes.
"It's one of the best things we went and did," she says with notable
satisfaction. "People come from all over for it."
Every day, Ridenoor or an assistant mixes water with the Broaster Company
Chickite -- a substance that has the consistency and appearance of salt. In
go the fresh chicken pieces, trimmed of fat, for 24 hours of marinating.
An hour before she anticipates a chicken order, she rolls the marinated
chicken pieces in Slo-Bro, the breading mixture that resembles cornstarch.
Ridenoor says she has no idea exactly what Chickite and Slo-Bro are made
with. "All I know is that it works for us."
At the end of the grill line in a corner of the kitchen, gleaming in its
glory, is the Model 1800 Broaster fryer. Ridenoor proudly demonstrates how
the lid slides back to reveal the removable fry basket . "And wait until you
cut into that breast and see the juice run right out of it," she promises.
At the Kountry Kitchen a half-chicken, served with potato wedges and two
vegetable side dishes is $7.95.
Ridenoor is right. This is great chicken, plump, succulent -- good to the
bone. I'm beginning to understand why broasting has its loyal fans.
Just over 21 miles away in Hagerstown, I find I-Mart, a sort of modern,
glorified gas station and convenience store overlooking busy Interstate 81.
The Broaster logo -- a chicken in a top hat -- is above the front door.
It's just after 3 p.m. There's an inviting aroma of fresh-baked cake. When I
ask the cashier about Broaster, a voice pipes up from somewhere behind the
nearby kitchen/carryout area.
Amanda Brichbill, 19, and Jennifer Haines, 18, have been broasting for six
months: "If you want to know about the chicken, you ought to be talking to
us. We're the ones that have to make it," Haines calls out.
Haines is spooning in the filling of deviled eggs ("my mom's recipe") and
monitoring the vanilla bean Bundt cake ("just a box recipe") that is just
about to come out of the oven.
Haines had no idea what Broaster was when she took the job as a counter
cook. Now she is so familiar with it that she wears it. Her sky-blue Mobil
work shirt is liberally dotted with grease stains. According to Haines, a
senior at Green Castle Antrim High School, the Broaster machine is a beast.
"To clean that thing is the most ridiculous thing in the world. Every week
you drain all the oil out. Then, you get down in there and take this thing
that looks like a metal toilet brush and get out the baked-on bits. It's a
big, yucky, greasy ordeal," she says with obvious disgust.
Still, she likes the results.
"Sure, I eat it. It's moist but not greasy," says Haines.
"It has a certain flavor to it," adds Brichbill, a first-year student at
Hagerstown Community College.
Many of their customers know the drill; they call 20 minutes in advance to
order fresh chicken hot from the Broaster.
"They say it's the best chicken they've ever eaten," says Haines.
A bell sounds. Brichbill throws back a lever on the Broaster lid and a
column of sizzling forced steam rises into the range hood like a plume from
an angry volcano and then quickly falls silent.
"You are going to try it, aren't you?" asks Brichbill.
I settle into a booth overlooking the gas pumps and tackle a leg with my
plastic knife and fork. The skin is chewy. Boy, is it salty. The damp meat
peels back in stringy pieces. This broasted chicken is okay, but it's not to
be compared with the plump bird back in Thurmont.
In fact, it's instant Broaster, another option available from the company.
I-Mart buys ready-to-cook, pre-marinated, breaded and frozen Broaster
chicken pieces. Convenience has its consequences.
Days later, back at the office, I'm wondering if Broaster is ever going to
be closer to home. I think about Whitey's. Somewhere out there in Arlington
there is a cold, idle Broaster going to waste.
I call Calvin Seville, the guy who used to own Whitey's.
"People knew Whitey's for the Broaster chicken," says Seville who ran the
bar for 26 years. But according to him, Broaster chicken never took off in
the Washington area "because it's really a West Coast item. People talk
about it out West, how good it is," says Seville. "The Broaster people don't
do enough campaigning on this side of the Mississippi."
A new group has leased and started renovations on the building on Washington
Boulevard that was once Whitey's. But it doesn't look good for Duane Freese
and other Broaster fans.
"We want it to be a place for fairly sophisticated food at good prices,"
says Michael Babin, who also is a co-owner of the Evening Star Cafe in
Alexandria. He says the Broaster is "back in the kitchen somewhere but it
looks like it was damaged, and you might not want to boil grease in it."
Babin and his partners don't have a set menu just yet for their new place,
which they think will be ready in June. "Nothing is final," he says.
Would he consider serving Broaster chicken in the Whitey's tradition? He
admits he doesn't know much about it. But he holds out hope.
"Well, if people want it. Yes," says Babin. "It's possible."
Blues Ma
> washingtonpost.com
>
> This chicken's not roasted, broiled or fried. It's BROASTED. Good luck
> finding it, though
>
Done properly it's a real treat. For those who eat meat.
ball_93
"Blues Ma" <2Blue...@comcast.net> wrote in message
news:4086F991...@comcast.net...
Chickens. For those who eat chickens. :-)
Remember to be kind to those you meat on your way up, because you may meat
them coming back down. :-)
I read today that addictions (!) to chocolate and BBQ are REAL!!! As if we
didn't know that already.
Finished the new East Orchard today, in the rain. About twenty rows, half a
mile long. Now he's training me to walk up and down each one of these rows
and severely prune those 1,500 trees. Seems they identify the leader, and
if it has enough good buds on it, they prune all the other small branches,
leaving what looks like a denuded stalk. The new cherry tree grows from the
apical stem's buds, and the rest of the tree becomes bole.
Half a mile times twenty equals ten miles of walking. Today I saw hundreds
of Herring Gulls, a Woodcock, and a Turkey Vulture, and after I got home a
sole Merganzer flew over my house. So there.
You could eat Herring Gulls, Woodcocks, Merganzers, or Turkey Vultures. Why
chickens? I'll have the Broasted Herring Gull, and my wife'll have the
Broasted Turkey Vulture, but she'd like only white meat, if that would be
OK. Dark meat on Vulture tastes a little, well, like Buzzard, if you know
what I mean. :-)
Joel Olson
<<
washingtonpost.com
It was all over the place (tri-state area: MN/SD/IA) in the late 50s. Never
had any though. Mostly burgers (good, back then) or steak sandwiches,
of fried chicken at picnics or at home.
The article demonstrates that reporters now-days are still wet, behind
the ears too. But this one sounds capable of learning.
The post has been doing excerpts of what's-his-names new book -
the guy who helped bring down Nixon. Another turn of the screw,
the rack keeps tightening.
ball_93
"Joel Olson" <jeo...@webzone.net> wrote in message
news:lxIhc.4532$eZ5...@newsread1.news.pas.earthlink.net...
> Blues Ma:
> <<
> washingtonpost.com
>
> This chicken's not roasted, broiled or fried. It's BROASTED. Good luck
> finding it, though
> >>
> <
> Done properly it's a real treat. For those who eat meat.
> >
>
> It was all over the place (tri-state area: MN/SD/IA) in the late 50s.
Never
> had any though. Mostly burgers (good, back then) or steak sandwiches,
> of fried chicken at picnics or at home.
My favorite pizza parlor offers Broasted Chicken, over in Suttons Bay.
> The article demonstrates that reporters now-days are still wet, behind
> the ears too. But this one sounds capable of learning.
Enough to sample more than one example.
> The post has been doing excerpts of what's-his-names new book -
> the guy who helped bring down Nixon. Another turn of the screw,
> the rack keeps tightening.
I saw Dean being interviewed, and hollered down to Patti, "Guess who is
giving us advice about political honesty!" I find the recovered liar trying
to redress his sins a poignant thing. I'll listen, but it is too late for
warm and fuzzy. Like Powell should have when he heard he was out of the
loop in the decision to invade Iraq, Dean should have resigned in protest
when he stumbled across the first lie.
There is great honor in saying "NO!"
Joel Olson
Couldn't get my niece to try a shrimp (sauteed in red sauce) at Pasta Plus the
other night. She'd druther keep eating chicken (at least 2 meals a day). I
pointed
out that shrimp were lower on the food chain than chicken. So the next day she
had pot roast for lunch, then later scarfs up the leftover non-vegetarian beef
stew
that I'd mixed up to demostrate their slow cooker. (meat, onion soup mix,
mushroom soup, beef broth = no veggies).
-----------
Women like quiet men because they think they are listening. - Anonymous
-----------
Blues Ma
Nah
It just means there's more time for us to talk - uninterrupted.
ball93
> Blues Ma:
> <<
> > washingtonpost.com
> >
> > This chicken's not roasted, broiled or fried. It's BROASTED. Good luck
> > finding it, though
> >>
> <
> Done properly it's a real treat. For those who eat meat.
> >
>
> Couldn't get my niece to try a shrimp (sauteed in red sauce) at Pasta Plus
the
> other night. She'd druther keep eating chicken (at least 2 meals a day). I
> pointed
> out that shrimp were lower on the food chain than chicken. So the next day
she
> had pot roast for lunch, then later scarfs up the leftover non-vegetarian
beef
> stew
> that I'd mixed up to demostrate their slow cooker. (meat, onion soup mix,
> mushroom soup, beef broth = no veggies).
Non-vegetarian beef stew. HAHAHAHA!!! Mom used to make the best
vegetable-beef soup with nothing but beef, potatoes, carrots, and onions,
with a little salt and pepper. We'd eat from that huge pot all week, and
when we finally finished it, it was the thickest stew you ever saw. We
would eat it with soft bread and butter, and wash it down with cold milk.
As simple a dish as you could imagine, and my very most favorite best meal
of all time.
> -----------
> Women like quiet men because they think they are listening. - Anonymous
> -----------
Fucking dolts have nothing to say. Listen when I talk to you, hear?
ball93
Patti uses the frequent slap up side the head to both quell interruption and
assure wakefullness and attention to her uninterrupted stream of advice and
consciousness. Freud, do I love being married. My attention is focused
like a lesser beam.